


A Life(less) Ordinary

by carleton97, foxxcub



Category: Bourne Legacy (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carleton97/pseuds/carleton97, https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxxcub/pseuds/foxxcub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been nine months since the Philippines and though it feels like they've been on every island in the region, she's pretty sure neither one of them is quite secure enough to stop running.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Life(less) Ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> We started this story within a week of the movie being released, but didn't finish it for nearly a year. Oopsie! 
> 
> None of this could have been possible without the awesome meta conversations we had with devildoll, chicklet_girl, and more people than we can remember! 
> 
> Chicklet_girl gave great beta on this and any mistakes that remain are on us.

The first time Aaron kisses her they're in a tiny little bar somewhere in Micronesia, watching the sunset. 

Later, Marta wishes she could be sure exactly where they were when it happens, that she'd been paying better attention to their island hopping, but she honestly lost track somewhere around Guam. She knows Guam had been after Indonesia and the Marianas, but before the Marshall Islands and Palau. It's been nine months since the Philippines and though it feels like they've been on every island in the region, she's pretty sure neither one of them is quite secure enough to stop running. 

Right now, they're both a little tipsy and Marta's been talking about a prank she pulled on her lab partner in grad school and how embarrassed he was after it happened. Despite the circumstances, she's so happy right then, truly happy, and Aaron just...leans over while she's mid-sentence and kisses her, a little awkwardly, his hand still wrapped around his beer bottle.

He pulls back abruptly after a moment or two and Marta can feel herself blinking owlishly at him. He immediately looks uncomfortable and contrite.

"I didn't -- Sorry." He blushes furiously, then looks away and drinks the rest of his beer.

Marta hesitantly sets her hand on his arm and whispers, "It's okay. I'm, ah, not good at being caught off guard, is all." She laughs nervously and he leans forward a fraction before jerking back.

He's a little skittish around her after that and it's so _frustrating_ for Marta. He is the only person in the entire world she has now and the thought of him being uncomfortable in her presence is unbearable.

They move on the next day, hitching a ride towards the Solomon Islands on a good sized fishing boat, trading labor for passage, no questions asked. 

It isn't until they've been in Honiara for a few days that it comes to her in a flash. They're nursing beers in another ramshackle bar, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the darkest corner Aaron could find, talking about maybe settling down in New Zealand since they could fit in more easily there and she says, "Oh!" in the middle of his sentence. 

"What?" He looks around, trying to find the threat.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I just thought of something that surprised me. It's ok, I promise." She hasn't really put much thought into his life as Kenneth or his life as Five, but there really couldn't have been many opportunities to date. She reaches out deliberately, not letting his tiny flinch away stop her, and runs her hand down his arm. She slides her hand into his and squeezes. "I like the idea of New Zealand."

After that, she pays close attention to his reactions to her subtle touches, the way he sometimes glances down at their hands whenever she runs her thumb across the cup of his palm, like he's vaguely confused, or curious, pensive. The scientific part of her brain goes into overdrive then, telling her that of course this is a logical conclusion to draw, that regardless of the permanence of the drugs in his system there are still going to be shadows of his former self. Somewhere, buried beneath the man that is now Aaron Cross, is that scared, innocent, brave kid who had no business being shoved into the military.

She wonders if that kiss a week ago was his first.

It's difficult for her, at times like that, to look at him and see _him_ , not just the culmination of years of her work. She's self-aware enough to know that there will always be a small part of her brain that wants to poke and measure and collate every single one of his cells, but she tries not to linger on those thoughts. Instead she thinks about the man he's become, strong and proud but always so careful with her.

Tonight, they're already holding hands, again tucked back in the darkest corner of the little bar. There's a radio behind the bar itself, playing a staticky pop song Marta almost recognizes, but that seems to be a big hit with the half-dozen young men gathered around a table in the middle of the room. It's almost automatic now, for their fingers to tangle together as soon as they're within reach of each other. It's easy and affectionate and something Marta had no idea she was missing. Still, she's beginning to realize she wants more for both of them. She tugs their joined hands over into her lap and uses her free hand to trace delicate patterns onto the skin of his inner arm.

She can feel him growing tense, sees a muscle twitch in his forearm, but she doesn't let go. And neither does he, she notices after a moment. Slowly, very slowly, he starts to relax, bit by bit. He nudges his knee up against hers playfully.

"That kinda tickles," he says with a smile, and before Marta would have thought he was flirting. Now, she knows he's being earnest, and a little shy.

"Hmmmm." She settles her fingers a little more solidly against his arm. "Is this better?"

"Yeah." He sinks down into the seat, sprawling against her.

She smiles and continues to pet his arm, her brain already planning a million and one things to show him, share with him. Surprisingly she's okay with this slow pace, because right now mostly what she wants to do is strip him down and massage relaxation into every wire-taut strip of muscle he has, get him used to her hands on him, and sleep curled up safe beside him.

She also likes the way his eyes track the movements of her fingers, a familiar intensity tapered with a cautiousness that makes warm affection bloom in her chest. His fingers flex around hers slightly, and she smiles at him.

"I never took you for being the ticklish type," she teases.

He shrugs. "Didn't think I was." He looks up at her from under his eyelashes and gives her a lopsided grin. Softly, he adds, "It's different when there aren't any needles involved, y'know?"

Her heart lurches at that. She rubs soothing circles over the veins she knows she's punctured and prodded more than a few times. "Yeah, I guess it is," she whispers.

His free hand hovers over hers for a second before dropping, feather light, to touch her. When she looks up, he's drifted closer to her, his eyes searching hers like he did that horrible day in her house. "Is this ok?"

He leans forward even more at her nod, not kissing her so much as breathing her in. He nudges at her face with his own, stubble scraping against the edge of her jaw as he presses his mouth against her neck. He stays like that for a long moment before shifting back up and pressing his cheek to hers, his breath warm against her ear.

She waits for him to shift again, to turn his head just so until his mouth brushes against hers, soft and easy like it did that first time, but instead he sighs and whispers, "You have soft hands. You've always had soft hands." His fingers curl around hers a bit more.

Her touch stutters over the inside of his wrist. She doesn't know what to say to that little admission, wonders how much he's remembering. It seems like a lifetime ago. So she presses a gentle kiss to the edge of his jaw, and continues to let her fingertips coast over his skin.

The sound of glass breaking and people shouting from the front of the bar startles them both. Before Marta can do more than blink, Aaron is out of his seat and standing in front of her. He hasn't pulled out the gun she knows is hidden somewhere on his body, but the tension in his stance is dangerous enough. She leans slightly to the side and recognizes two of the regulars scuffling over some slight. She eases to her feet and presses up close behind him, settling her hands on his waist and resting her forehead against the back of his neck. "Let's just get out of here before the police show up."

Some of the tension eases out of him and she can feel his short nod. She wraps her arms round him and squeezes for a second, then steps back and lets him take her hand to lead her out the back door.

They leave the Solomons as soon as Aaron arranges their transport back north to Micronesia. 

They've been living in a boarding house in Palikirfor nearly a month now, and Marta knows instinctively that they're safe here. They are off the grid, gone, and not a trace of trouble has shown its face in weeks. She wishes Aaron believed that as well, but she knows he doesn't. He probably will never truly believe he's safe, and it breaks her heart.

They get back to their tiny set of rooms after spending the evening wandering in the crowds of tourists that always seemed to exist, Aaron making a quick sweep of the place out of habit. Once he's certain the place is clear, he huffs out a breath and smiles sheepishly at her. "Sorry," he says. "I just wanted to be sure."

"Sure of what?" she asks in a light tone, trying to make her voice playful when all she wants is to wrap herself around him. "That the cat in the alley didn't creep back in through the window?"

Aaron blinks for a moment, confused, then actually laughs. "I'd forgotten about that."

It wasn't funny at the time, but in retrospect the mental picture of Aaron in his underwear, trying to catch a yowling alley cat as it scrambled all around the room is pretty hilarious. Eventually the cat had jumped back out the window and Aaron was left panting and slightly harassed, his arms and hands a patchwork of scratches.

Tonight, despite the missing cat, Aaron is still buzzing with tension, and Marta wants nothing more than to see him _relax_ for once.

"Do you trust me?"

It makes her heart happy to know he doesn't hesitate as he says, soft, "'Course I do."

She circles one hand around his wrist in a light hold and tugs him toward the bed. He cocks his head to one side but doesn't say anything as she stops at the edge of the mattress. The bed is a queen and they've been sharing it for weeks, but always platonically, always with Aaron keeping almost diligently to his own side. Once, she'd woken up with him curled toward her, his face close enough to hers that she could feel warm puffs of his breath, and he'd looked so startlingly young that Marta had been unable to do anything but watch him sleep.

She smooths her free hand over the front of his t-shirt, warm from the hot night air and his skin. "Can I take this off?"

He's still tense, but it's not out of fear. If anything, he's uncertain, like he can't figure out her next move. "Okay," he whispers.

She skims her hands up under his shirt, pulling it over his head, and tosses it toward their growing pile of laundry in the corner. Aaron's arms are hanging by his sides, his muscles standing out in sharp relief as he flexes his hands. Marta sneaks the tip of her index finger under the waistband of his pants and tugs a little. "These too?"

Aaron shrugs, but doesn't protest when she undoes his pants and steps back to let him toe out of his shoes. He kicks his pants over towards the laundry then tips his head as if to say _now what?_ She can't stop the tiny smile from forming at the way he lets her push him down onto the bed and roll him onto his stomach.

He reaches up to pull a pillow under his head and he tracks her around the room as she finds the jar of mango butter she'd bought at the market the other day and kicks off her own pants before crawling up the bed to kneel next to him.

"When was the last time someone gave you a deep tissue massage?" She asks as she rubs the butter into her hands to get them warm.

He gives her a look over his shoulder, one eyebrow cocked. "What do you think?"

"I think you're overdue."

Aaron folds both arms under his head on the pillow and stretches against the mattress, groaning deep in his throat. "I've gone this long and survived, but yeah. Guess it couldn't hurt."

She smiles. He's laid out for her, in nothing but his boxer briefs, his head turned away from her, totally trusting. And, hopefully soon, totally relaxed. "I promise not to traumatize you."

"Naw, you'll be fine. Soft hands, remember?" His voice is slightly muffled where his face is buried against his arm.

Marta swings her leg over his hips, riding out his instinctive startle before setting her slick hands on his shoulders and squeezing down on the solid blocks of muscle. She digs her thumbs into the first set of knots she finds, working at them until she feels them dissolve.

Aaron groans, a low, pained sound in the quiet of their rooms. Marta can see a muscle running along his ribs jump. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, don't stop."

Marta leans forward and presses a fleeting kiss to his hairline before smoothing her hands over the planes of his back and searching out the next set of knots.

It takes a while, but gradually she feels his shoulders go slack, the hard tension melting away under her hands. She feels more than hears him sigh, followed by a contented humming sound she's never heard from him before.

She frames the top of his spine with her thumbs and rubs easy circles into his skin. "Good?" she asks softly.

He doesn't say a word for several long moments, and Marta starts to think he's fallen asleep, but eventually he shifts a little underneath her, elongating into a slow full body stretch like a cat. The lazy, deep groan that vibrates from him makes her cheeks flush. "Fuck, how d'you know how to do that?" he asks in a hazy, rumbling voice that doesn't sound like him at all. Or it would if Marta were used to hearing Aaron sleepy and peaceful.

"It's a gift," she says, wiping the last of the mango butter off on her own legs and letting her fingers trip up into his hair to swirl against his scalp, toying gently with the strands that are slightly damp with sweat from the warm evening. She's more than a little aware that there's only two layers of thin cotton separating her skin from his.

Aaron makes that delicious humming noise again and turns his head on the pillow until he's looking at her over his shoulder. "Nice gift," he says with a smile, his blue eyes at half-mast and darker than before.

Marta eases her body down on the bed until her head is on the pillow next to his. She leaves her leg draped over his hips and settles her hand on his shoulder blade. She shifts until she's pressed against his side, then closes her eyes and deliberately lets her body start to grow heavy with sleep. "Good night."

Aaron freezes against her, but Marta just breathes steadily until he relaxes again and shifts until he's comfortable. "Good night."

===

At some point in the night, they shift position.

Marta wakes up just after dawn, flat on her back with her mouth dry from sleeping with it open. Aaron's head is a heavy weight on her stomach and when she lifts her own head enough to look down, she can see he's curled up next to her legs. Her hand is asleep where it's tangled with his and she's disgustingly sweaty from the close quarters.

She hasn't slept so well in years.

She lets her fingers trail over Aaron's shoulders, his skin soft from the mango butter, and he twitches once before coming awake with a start. Marta stays still until he relaxes again, turning his head to hide his face in her stomach. She can feel his breath through her shirt as he huffs out a groan before levering himself up and starfishing as best he can on the open mattress next to her.

He tucks his left arm up against his body, his hand in a loose fist against his cheek, as he falls back asleep. His lips are parted slightly and his lashes look very delicate against his skin. She's reminded of that morning she spent watching him sleep, but even then he hadn't looked this...innocent. This peaceful.

She sits up slowly and pushes the hair out of her eyes. There is trickle of sunlight spilling in through the slats of the ancient blinds, painting streaks of gold over the dips and curves of Aaron's muscles, the gorgeous slope of his back. For all the sweet innocence of sleep, he's still solid, capable of leaping to attention in a split second and breaking a man's neck with his bare hands.

Marta probably shouldn't find that as attractive as she does now.

Her heart thumps heavily as she splays her hand over the center of his spine, sliding her fingers down until they trace the dimples of his lower back. He shifts minutely, but doesn't wake.

Then, before she can second-guess herself, she leans over him and presses a kiss against his shoulder blade as her hands slide into the dip of his waist. He shifts again and this time he snuffles in his sleep, high and young-sounding.

He turns towards her, shuffling forward until his face is pressed against her skin and Marta knows she has to get out of the bed before she does something she'll regret. She kisses the peak of his shoulder again before carefully sliding out of bed and padding silently towards the tiny washroom to get ready for the day.

Aaron is blinking sleepily at the ceiling when she returns. He lets his head flop over on the pillow to watch her putter around the room before rolling to the edge of the bed and reaching for her hand. "Thank you again for the massage. I can't remember ever sleeping like that."

She squeezes his fingers and leans over to brush a kiss against the back of his hand. "Any time."

The smile he gives her in return is sweet and only a little questioning at the edges.

===

It's not an overnight change, but Aaron begins to reach out for her more often after that. It's nothing risque, just a hand on her back or an arm curled around her shoulders, and every time he touches her, he always flicks a quick glance over her face to make sure it's okay, that she's okay with the contact.

She always smiles and leans into his touch, never tiring of how careful he is.

One morning, as they're sitting in a tiny outdoor cafe having breakfast, Aaron automatically reaches for her hand without looking up from the newspaper he's reading. He threads his fingers through hers, over and under, never quite coming to a full rest as his thumb plays over her palm. It's playful, gentle, and she wonders briefly if he's even fully conscious of what he's doing. She says his name and he blinks up at her, his hand stopping.

"What is it?" he asks, but it's not tense at all. It's quiet, relaxed; his fingers don't immediately clench around hers.

She smiles and shakes her head. "Nothing."

He returns the smile before going back to his paper. Eventually, his thumb starts sweeping over her hand again.

===

That evening he sits down on the edge of the bed, scrubs a hand through his hair, and says shyly, "So...remember that backrub you gave me?" He's blushing, just a little.

"You mean the massage that resulted in the best sleep of your life?" she teases, deliberately keeping things light. She won't let him feel any shame for asking for another backrub.

He huffs out a laugh at that, much to Marta's pleasure. "Something like that. I...wouldn't mind another one, if you're game."

"Always." Marta digs in her bag for the mango butter. "Clothes off, mister."

He bounces up off the bed and yanks his t-shirt over his head, snorting out a laugh as he balls it up and tosses it into the corner. He shimmies out of his pants and drops back down onto the bed, twisting over onto his stomach in the middle of the bed. He watches over his shoulder as she strips down to her panties and camisole and hides his grin in his elbow when she crawls onto the bed.

She drops her weight on his back just to hear him huff before moving back and settling on his ass. She takes a minute to run her hands up his back and through his hair, scratching at his scalp. She sits back and scoops a good amount of the butter out before setting the heels of her hands on either side of his spine and pushing upwards.

Aaron doesn't bother to muffle the noise he makes, and it sets off a tingle in Marta's stomach she knows she's going to have to ignore. She digs her fingers into his shoulders, leaning forward to use her weight for more leverage.

"A little lower," she hears him groan, and she grins as she does as instructed. This is progress; he's never directed her before, told her what he wants. She moves her thumbs down his spine, fingers digging into hard knots of muscle, and when she hits a particular spot, Aaron moans and arches his back.

"Fuck, yeah, god, right there," he says, and the angle of his body as he pushes up against her is...well. She stills her hands for moment, closing her eyes and swallowing.

She pauses for too long, apparently, because soon Aaron turns his head and looks back at her. His hair is a bit rumpled, cheeks flushed from being pressed into his folded arms.

"It's okay, I like it," he says, and gives her an encouraging smile. "Seriously, if I sound like I’m dying, you're doing it right. I promise."

Marta takes a deep breath and tells herself she can keep going, that she has to keep going. She licks her lips and forces herself to smile back.

Aaron ducks his head back down to rest on his arms as she returns to her massage, following the length of his spine and the striations of muscle across his back until he's a limp wreck beneath her. She gradually gentles her touch so that now she's just running her hands over his back, cataloging the scars and imperfections of his skin. His pained moans had tapered off to breathy noises when she was about halfway done, and he's been quiet long enough that Marta is fairly sure he's asleep.

She carefully climbs off him and heads into the washroom to finish getting ready for sleep herself. He doesn't move when she slides back into bed, but once she's settled on her side, she feels him shift behind her. She can feel the heat of him before his chest brushes against her back.

"Is this okay?"

Marta doesn't trust her voice, so she just nods and is rewarded with a strong arm curling over her waist and tugging her back into the curve of his body.

He nuzzles his nose into her hair, whispers, "g'night," his arm tightening into something like a hug before relaxing. His breathing turns slow and deep within minutes.

Her heart is pounding too hard for her to do anything close to sleep. She lies there in the dark, surrounded by Aaron's warmth, his scent, the feel of him, and wonders what she's even trying to do here, what she hopes to accomplish by drawing this out. She's never been a romantic, has never once thought to she'd use the word _ache_ to describe her reaction to another person, but here, in this bed, thousands of miles away from any place she's ever called home, she will admit to herself that she does, in fact, ache.

Marta closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of Aaron breathing against her neck, on the heavy weight wrapped around her, safe and trusting. She traces the tendons in his forearm, circles around the knob of bone at his wrist.

What feels like hours later, she fades into sleep, her hand over Aaron's.

===

It becomes a regular thing, the massages. Not every night, but at least once a week he asks her if she'd be willing to give him a backrub.

She never refuses - _could_ never refuse, no matter how tired she is - and each request becomes a bit more confident. His response to her touch slowly changes as well; he moves more, pressing up into her hands and making quiet sounds of pleasure as each knot dissolves. Marta finds it increasingly difficult to keep her hands from wandering past the elastic barrier of his boxer briefs and the mental line she's drawn for herself.

A storm blows through the area, nothing too severe, but bad enough that the both of them spend most of the next week helping the families in the neighborhood fix their roofs and remove storm-tossed trash from their yards and gardens. Marta is exhausted by the time they're done, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for days. When she's done cleaning up and returns to their room, Aaron is sitting tailor-style on the end of the bed and sporting what she thinks of as his 'thinking face.'

She leaves him to it while she tidies up the few belongings she's accumulated in the past few months - a sarong, a swimsuit, a pretty necklace of wooden beads - and generally winds down from the day.

"Marta?" His voice is hesitant, so she turns to give him her full attention. She notices he's got the container of mango butter in his hands. "I don't think I have any sort of gift for this, but can I return the favor?"

She blinks dumbly at him for a second. It's so unexpected, something she'd decided weeks ago not to pin her secret hopes on. Her fantasies were just that, and it wasn't fair for her to put expectations on him.

And yet here he is, looking up at her with wide, patient eyes and a hint of smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then he waggles his eyebrows and holds up the jar of lotion.

Marta can't help but laugh; she loves it that he's comfortable enough around her to be goofy. "Do you want me to critique your form?" She asks as she skims off her linen pajama pants and climbs onto the bed. She hesitates a moment before stripping off her camisole--she's never been this close to naked in front of him, at least not on purpose. She keeps her back to him when she tosses the clothing aside and lies down on her stomach in nothing but her bra and underwear.

"I think I've learned enough from you to do an okay job." She can feel the bed give under his knees as he gingerly straddles her hips. "Just don't let me hurt you."

"You won't." Marta has few certainties left in her life, but this is one of them.

She can feel the way he freezes for a moment, but he doesn't say anything. He just carefully gathers up her hair and pushes it off to the side. He touches one finger to the base of her neck and traces a line down her spine until he reaches the band of her bra. "Can I?"

"Yes." She looks back over her shoulder to meet his eyes, to make sure he sees how pleased she is by his actions.

Aaron ducks his head, an obvious flush working its way up his chest, but still slides his fingers under her bra and unhooks it. Marta turns back around, reaching under herself to pull her bra free and toss it over the edge of the bed before settling back down.

She can hear quiet, slick sounds, what she assumes is Aaron coating his hands with the mango butter, but when his hands finally splay over her back she gasps at the sensation, pleasing and startling at once. His hands are broad enough to span the entire width of her back, the tips of his fingers lightly curling around her sides fleetingly before he slides them away, further up to her shoulders. He kneads her skin gently, possibly _too_ gently, but Marta doesn't care. She's slowly melting into the mattress at just the touch of his hands on her skin; she hadn't truly realized just how much she'd wanted this until now.

She wants those hands all over her, but this will have to do.

"You're awfully quiet," Aaron says, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Tell me if I'm doin' something wrong, or--"

"It's wonderful," she breathes, tucking her face into her arms. Her face feels too hot.

She lets herself get lost in the rhythmic motion of his hands on her back, unable to stop the occasional breathy, pleasure-filled sound from escaping. He finds a particularly stubborn knot under her left shoulder blade that refuses to release its tension and the sensation of it shifting inside her muscle hurts enough to make her flinch. He pulls his hands away immediately and sits back. "Sorry, sorry. God, are you okay?"

"Hey, hey. I'm fine." Marta reaches back to try to reassure him and ends up patting his hip. "You know this hurts sometimes. I'm good, really."

Aaron stays quiet and still above her for a second before she feels his hands carefully resettle on her back.

His touch goes back to being on the edge of too gentle, fingertips barely pressing into her muscles, but she doesn't object. She does, however, let herself lean into his hands, mimicking the ways Aaron's leaned into her in the past. He's heavy over her, but it's a nice, delicious weight, and she arches her spine right as he passes the heel of his palm down her back.

"Do you like it here?" He asks quietly after several long moments.

She frowns, not sure what he's getting at. there's a tentativeness in his tone, like he's really asking something else inside that one question. "Yes, I do. It's nice and quiet."

"There's cyclones," he drawls, and she can hear the lopsided grin in his voice.

"We're in Micronesia. It's a fair trade to not have to worry about blizzards; I don't miss Maryland snows, that's for damn sure."

Aaron goes silent again, his thumbs sweeping over the base of her spine. "We could move on again. If you wanted," he says.

"Move on? Where?" She wants to turn around, to have this conversation face to face but she's pretty much naked and Aaron is still tracing random patterns across her shoulders.

"I don't know. Someplace bigger, somewhere you could do science stuff." It sounds like he's trying be nonchalant, but she can hear in his voice that he's bordering on upset.

"Aaron, no. Most importantly, I like it here." She leaves the _with you_ unsaid and can only hope he hears it. "I've accepted I'll probably never be in a research lab again and I am fine with that. Truly."

"But - "

"How could I ever trust anyone enough to work in a lab again?" Marta feels something tight and painful unwind in her chest when she says that. She hasn't let herself think about the possibility of working in her field in any real way since there’s no way it can happen again, but putting it out there so baldly makes her realize she was telling the truth.

There’s no way she could work in anyone else's lab again. She would forever be second guessing...everything.

"I just want you to be happy." He sounds almost as desperate as he had during those first terrifying days.

She gathers up enough bedding to be able to push up a few inches on her elbow without flashing him. "I am happy. So happy. With you."

He looks lost for a long moment, a pinch above his eyes as he studies her face, like he's looking for traces of a lie, or a reason for him to doubt her. She wonders if he's ever had anyone say words like that to him; she wonders if he's ever had anyone who wanted to stay with him, for _him_.

"I'm happy with you," she whispers again, then turns more fully onto her side and reaches up to cup his cheek. The bedding slips down, half by accident and half not, and Marta can hear the instant his breathing changes. Aaron's eyes shut, but he doesn't tense or pull away, and she considers that a victory. She pulls him close, flutters a kiss to his lower lip. "I want the same for you."

His throat clicks as he swallows. His cheek is warm, heat radiating off every inch of his skin. Very, very slowly, he turns into her palm and kisses the heel of her hand, nuzzling into it with his lips, his nose.

"I don't know when you started smelling like home to me, but you do. Feels like you've always--" He stops and makes a tiny groan that sends shivers through Marta's nerves. "You know I'd--I'd--"

"What?" she asks, dragging her thumb over his mouth.

Aaron shakes his head and mouths at her skin, his weight sinking down onto her until she's on her back again, her legs shifting to bracket his hips. The sheets fall away completely, but he's yet to open his eyes. "I'd follow you anywhere," he breathes.

"Okay," she whispers. "Okay. Together?"

His eyes are still closed, and she's almost glad for it because the naked relief on his face is painful enough to tighten her throat and make her eyes burn. "Yeah. Yeah, together."

Marta slips her other hand behind his neck and pulls him even closer. So close that every time she inhales, the ghost of his body heat brushes over her body. She thinks about the first time he kissed her, about how he'd apologized. She thinks about the way he touches her, about how careful he is to never overstep what he obviously believes is a boundary.

She thinks about choice.

"You can kiss me if you'd like."

His eyes pop open, hopeful and disbelieving. He searches her face, careful to keep his eyes above her neck, never mind that they're both mostly naked and almost plastered together. After a few seconds, all of the tension drains out of him and he drops his head down to rest his forehead against hers.

Marta closes her own eyes and tips her chin up, brushing her mouth whisper soft against his. "Aaron?"

Instead of answering, he carefully tilts his head to one side and everything slides into a real kiss. His lips are barely parted, but he nudges gently at her mouth, like a question, a silent _Let me in?_

She lets him in. She's been letting him in for weeks now.

He shivers at the first touch of her tongue slipping over his teeth, draws in a quick breath through his nose like he's startled, but it bleeds into a tiny moan that Marta can feel vibrate through his skin. She tangles her fingers in his hair, splays her other hand over his jaw, his neck, communicating through touch-- _I want this, it's okay to want this._ She deepens the kiss a bit more and he moans again, louder this time.

At the same time, his shifts against her, shuddering, and Marta realizes he's hard. Her heart begins to pound as she deliberately lets her thighs relax and arches into him, against him. It's easy and slow, but Aaron groans into her mouth roughly like it hurts him.

"Wait," he gasps, and she can feel his pulse rabbiting beneath her fingertips.

"Why?"

"Just--Just--I'm rushing this. I didn't mean to--" He starts to pull away. "Fuck, this wasn't--"

"Hey, hey. Hang on." Marta tightens her grip on him just enough to keep him in place. "This wasn't what?"

He shakes his head, arms straining to hold himself away from her body.

"If you feel like we're rushing, we can stop, but you're not rushing _me_ , okay?" She waits until he gives her a hesitant nod. "Do you want to stop?"

"God, no!" Aaron looks mortified at his outburst and his voice is quieter, but no less intense when he continues. "But if you -- "

"I'll tell you if I do. I promise."

He deflates at that, collapsing down to cover her body with his. "Sorry. I'm sorry I'm being so weird. I don't -- I haven't -- "

She shushes him with a kiss that's deliberately open-mouthed and a little too wet. It does the trick; Aaron groans deep in his throat and pushes into the kiss, whatever apologies he was about to give her forgotten.

The last thing she wants from him in this moment is an apology for something that isn't ( _wasn't_ ) his fault.

"We can just do this," she breathes as her hand skims down his chest, over scars and ridges of muscle and sinew and other bits of physical traits that make him a perfect masculine specimen. But this isn't Five under her hands, or a skittish teenage virgin. This is _Aaron_ , who feels too much and thinks it's wrong. She presses her fingertips into the soft hair trailing down into his boxer briefs and nips gently at his mouth when he whimpers. "I'm going to touch you now, is that okay?"

She can hear him swallow. "God, yeah," he says, and his voice cracks slightly.

"Here." She turns them over on the bed until she's kneeling over his thighs. She leans forward and kisses him again, her elbows digging into the mattress on either side of his head. Aaron kisses back immediately, his lips parting under hers and his tongue sliding into her mouth. His hands slide up her back and close over her shoulders, holding her in place.

Marta groans into his mouth and lets herself melt down against him. He lets go of her shoulders and trails his hands down her sides, skirting the edges of her breasts. Now that there's a boundary in place, he's more confident in his touches and she lets herself enjoy it. His hips are moving in tiny hitches under her, but she's pretty sure he doesn't realize he's moving and the unspoken desperation of it is enough to have her easing back out of the kiss. She scrapes her teeth over his lip as she pulls back and rides out the instinctive buck of his hips. He's breathing in shuddering gasps, more unevenly than after being chased by an assassin across the whole of Manila and Marta lets herself feel a little smug about that.

She scoots back a few inches and lets her hand hover over the obvious bulge of his erection. "Still okay?"

He nods.

When she cups her full hand over him, she's not quite expecting the full-body shudder that accompanies the touch. He makes a sharp _huh-uh_ sound and arches against her, then quickly turns his head away and gasps, "Sorry, I'm sorry, it's just--" his words break apart on a moan as she moves her palm over him, feeling heat and dampness.

It's ridiculously gorgeous to watch him fall apart so easily like this. Marta's never felt so powerful.

In the back of her mind she knows this will be over rather quickly. She doesn't want him to feel shame or remorse or embarrassment, so she leans over him again, licks at his mouth, and whispers, "It's okay, just let go. I've got you."

She wonders if he was truly waiting on her to give him permission, because within seconds he's gritting his teeth and growling roughly, hips surging up and wet warmth spread beneath her fingers.

"God, fuck," he whimpers, throwing an arm over his eyes, but she won't let him hide from her. Marta pulls his arm aside and kisses him as she pulls her hand away.

He shakes against her, his arms heavy around her back. He pulls her down and rolls until he's on top of her, breath heavy and humid against her neck. She runs her hands over his back, chasing the tiny tremors still coursing through him and trying to ignore the throbbing inside her. He turns his head and mouths messily at her neck, not kissing so much as just touching.

After a few minutes, he raises his head, his eyes still heavy with pleasure. He moves his hips against her and makes a weird little face.

Marta traces the dip of his spine, unable to stop her breathless laugh. "You should probably change."

He looks a little embarrassed, but mostly happy. She's never seen him look...young and contented like he is now, rolling to the edge of the bed and shimmying out of his stained shorts.

He's even humming under his breath.

Marta stares at the clean lines of his body as he digs in his duffle for clean shorts, her own arousal still thrumming, and resigns herself to getting off in the bathroom when she goes to brush her teeth. Aaron's just settled the waistband of his shorts against his hips when he stops and looks at her, his eyes narrowing into the intense focus she's becoming familiar with.

Her hips shift as he slowly kneels on the bed, cocking his head to one side. He carefully touches her ankle. "Do you -- Can I -- "

She smiles, a shiver chasing up her spine, and says, "Of course." She stretches her leg out for him to explore, fully aware she's still mostly naked.

Aaron can't seem to decide where it's okay to look, so he just looks down at his hand where it's resting on her calf. He tightens his grip a bit and the simple touch of his hand is pretty damn amazing.

Gradually he settles himself between her legs, kneeling almost reverently as he trails his hands over her. His brow is furrowed, and she can tell he's thinking too much, analyzing the boundaries again, what he's allowed to touch and what he isn't. So she palms the back of his neck and draws him down against her to kiss him slow and deep, bordering on filthy. If there's one thing that keeps Aaron from getting lost in his head, it's kissing.

And it works.

He relaxes immediately, makes soft, gorgeous little sounds into her mouth, his hands skimming over her, as if not quite sure of where to land. Eventually Marta takes one of them and carefully guides it down her body until his palm is flat over her mound, the heel pressed deliciously over where she needs it most. She gives an experimental grind, gasps softly, and thinks she could come from this, easily.

She doesn't, however, plan on Aaron pulling neatly out of her grip and pushing his fingers past the waistband of her underwear. The first initial touch is so unexpected, Marta bites her lip against her moan.

Aaron makes a low, curious yet pleased sound right as his middle finger skims deeper, sliding through the slickness. "You're...so wet," he whispers against her neck, like he's in awe and stupidly proud of this fact--like he's just now realizing how aroused she is. How much she wants him.

She knows it's probably the first time he's ever felt a woman like this, ever really felt arousal from another person, so she just lets him touch her for as long as she can stand it. He's just exploring, touching her softly and sliding his fingers inside her then slowly back out. His other hand smoothes up her ribs to gently palm her breast.

Aaron catches his breath in tandem with Marta as she presses up into his hands. She can't stop herself from moving against his fingers, trying to get some sort of rhythm going.

He leans forward to whisper against her ear, "Tell me what you want."

She puts her hand on top of his and shows him how to touch her. "Just you."

After that, she comes pretty damn quickly and harder than she ever has from just from a handjob. He leaves his hand pressed against her as she twitches with aftershocks, dropping soft kisses wherever he can reach on her face.

She collapses back onto the bed, her arms and legs feeling like wet noodles. Aaron kisses her again, his mouth soft and barely open against hers. She makes a breathy noise when he carefully pulls his fingers away from her.

He stares down at his hand for a moment, eyes dark and a faint blush across his cheeks. Then, he brings his fingertips to his nose and inhales.

Marta can only lie back and blink up at him, stunned and laughing breathlessly. She never would have guessed in a million years that a sight like that would be so damn sexy. And it shouldn't be, but mixed with Aaron's almost sweetly endearing curiosity, it makes her pull him back down into a kiss.

"I like hearing you come," he whispers, and she can feel him smile against her mouth.

"It's entirely mutual, believe me." She stretches out under his weight before spreading out on the bed as much as possible. "Mmmmm, you're going to enjoy next time."

"Next time?" She's glad she can read him well enough to know that his stillness is anticipation, not anxiety.

"Next time," she agrees, rolling him over until she can sprawl out on his chest and kiss him again. "Next time imagine how my mouth will feel."

A confused frown starts to form between his eyes before realization hits and his hands clench on her waist. "Oh."

"Mmmmmm." Marta is exhausted suddenly and lets her eyes slip closed. "Later, though. I'm tired."

Aaron's tiny, shocked noise is the last thing she registers before falling asleep.

===

Aaron isn't next to her when she wakes the next morning, but that's nothing unusual. Most mornings he's up and taking a run before she's out of bed. She's in the middle of getting dressed when he gets back and he stops in the doorway when he notices she's just got a bra and panties on.

"Hey, how was your run?" Marta's only half listening for his answer as she pulls on her pants and tries to find a clean shirt, but when nothing answers her but silence, she looks up. "Aaron?"

He blinks a couple of times before lurching further into the room. "Yes. Fine. It was fine."

Marta can feel herself start to frown. Aaron is not acting like himself at all. "Do you feel all right?"

Aaron closes his eyes and visibly shakes himself. When he's done his shoulders have dropped and he smiles at her. "I'm fine, I promise."

Then he promptly trips over the trailing edge of the sheet that's hanging off the bed and nearly brains himself on the wall. He manages to catch himself before he damages either himself or the wall and slouches into the steadying hands she's got on his chest.

"You are not fine, Aaron." She presses the inside of her wrist to his forehead, but he's flushed from embarrassment and exertion, so she can't figure out if he's feverish.

He catches her hand and pulls it away from his head, weaving their fingers together and resting them against his chest. "I swear I don't feel sick. I wouldn't keep that from you. I just tripped. It happens, even to me."

Marta bites her lip in indecision, only half noticing the way Aaron's eyes track the movement. While it's true that sometimes people do just trip, she can honestly say she's never seen it happen to Aaron, since an almost preternatural grace was one of the advantages of his physical enhancements. Still, Aaron has never lied to her and she's pretty sure he wouldn't, especially about his health.

"You're right." Marta squeezes his hand and consciously lets go of some of the tension that had been building in her. When he squeezes back, she can't help the little lurch her heart gives and she has to lean forward to kiss him. He freezes, just for a second, before his mouth softens under hers and his free hand slides over her hip to the small of her back.

She leans into him, letting him take her weight. He groans, deep in his chest, and Marta hums back, sliding her tongue over his lip before biting it gently. It sends an obvious jolt through him, the hand on her back dropping down to squeeze her ass and pull her tight against him. His mouth opens, his tongue pushing against hers, and the whole thing gets much dirtier than she intended when she kissed him.

Not that she's complaining.

Aaron arches his hips against hers and she can feel him starting to get hard. She digs her fingers into the muscle of his shoulder and shifts until one of her thighs is between his. The hand on her ass flexes once more before moving up to her waist and gently pushing her back. Aaron gentles their kiss as well, easing everything down until they're doing little more than sharing breath.

"We don't have time for this right now." He rests his forehead against hers and kisses her lightly one last time before sliding out from between her and the wall. "I ran into Loto on the way back and told him we'd help with his roof today."

Marta makes a little face over her shoulder. She _hates_ helping with roofs, but Loto is the defacto leader of the little of which community they'd somehow become a part. Everyone in the neighborhood goes to him for advice and takes his word as law despite the fact that he barely comes up to Marta's shoulder.

Aaron shrugs and shifts his hips, trying to hide his partial erection without being obvious about it. She huffs out a little sigh and says, "Fine. Go change and we'll help Loto with his roof."

If she uses the ten minutes he's in the shower to practice some deep breathing, it's no one's business but her own.

It doesn't take Aaron long to get ready, so they're on their way less than fifteen minutes later. He catches her hand in his as soon as they start the walk to Loto's, swinging their arms between them and smiling down at the ground. He is so precious to her in that moment that she has to swallow down the involuntary noise bubbling up in her throat.

When Aaron looks over at her, she just smiles and bumps his shoulder with hers.

There's already a small crowd loitering around Loto's house when they arrive, but Marta recognizes everyone and Aaron obviously does too -- there’s only a quick, tense moment as he surveys the group before he relaxes and calls out greetings to the people closest to them.

Everyone looks relieved to see them and even though she’d hated it by the end and was happy they'd burned it to the ground, Marta's glad she lived in that damn fixer-upper for so long. Her home improvement knowledge has been an invaluable barter tool here and has helped ease their way into the community the way little else could.

As soon as he spots her, Loto slides through the crowd and hands her a hammer. There's a pile of tin sheeting on the ground and the ladder is already leaning against the side of his little house. Time to get to work, then. She starts up the ladder, knowing Aaron will scamper up the side of the house and beat her to the roof to start pulling off the old sheeting.

Show-off.

===

She's still up on the roof the first time it happens. She’s taking a quick break to drink some water, nearly draining the bottle in one go after a long morning of removing the old sheeting, when she hears the unmistakable sound of a sheet of metal hitting someone's foot.

"Ow! Fuck!"

Marta looks down in time to see Aaron's eyes shift away from her to focus on the sheeting on the ground.

"You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine. Sorry." Aaron waves off her concern, but the back of his neck is bright red. She'd made sure they were both covered in sunblock before they'd gone out, so he's not sunburned. He's probably embarrassed, she decides.

It's less than a half an hour later when it happens again. She's on the ground this time, talking to Loto, when there's a scrambling sound from the roof and Aaron slides halfway off before catching himself on the edge.

"Aaron!" Marta takes a step forward to catch him or break his fall or something, but he's already pulled himself back up. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"I just slipped. I'm good." There's a muffled clank as if he'd dropped his head against the metal sheeting, but he sits up and smiles weakly. He doesn't meet her eyes, though. His glance skitters all around them and Marta feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Aaron stands up and goes back to securing the sheet metal to the roof with another embarrassed smile, but she circles slowly, trying to see what he's seen that's obviously causing his distraction. She doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but of course she wouldn't. A shiver chases down her spine and it takes Loto touching her shoulder to bring her focus back to what they're doing.

"Are you okay?"

She makes herself smile, doing her best to keep it from looking forced. "I'm fine, just distracted today."

The rest of the day, it's a struggle to resist looking over her shoulder every few minutes, but she thinks she manages to avoid looking too suspicious. No one is giving her strange looks, at least. Aaron's behavior has mostly normalized as well. He works quickly and accurately, securing the sheeting to the frame of the roof and laughing with the others.

She doesn't notice him looking around at all and he doesn't seem worried, so her hypervigilance fades to something manageable by the time they finish. She only half pays attention to Loto thanking all of them for their help, the rest of her focused on Aaron hopping to the ground from the middle of the ladder.

He slides into place next to her and smiles as he takes her hand, but he doesn't look at her and that puts her on edge again. She nervously squeezes his hand and he squeezes back, taking a quick breath before meeting her eyes.

"Ready to head back?"

Marta smiles, doing her best to make it real. "Yes. I desperately need a shower."

Aaron leans towards her and takes an obvious sniff before making an exaggerated face. "You really do."

She punches him in the shoulder, her smile finally sliding into something genuine. "You're one to talk, mister."

He laughs and wraps his arms around her in a rather sweaty hug. "I smell like roses, don't lie."

She'll never admit the noise she makes is a squeal, but she makes a noise and tries to wriggle out of his embrace. "Let go, you beast!"

Aaron is laughing, making it easier to escape him, but he still manages to rub his face against the curve of her neck before she gets free. They've made a bit of a scene, but mostly everyone still lingering around is laughing at the two of them.

Marta smooths her hands down the front of her shirt and shoots him a dirty look before catching his hand again and tugging him back towards their rooms.

===

The lukewarm shower doesn't quite manage to restore her perspective on the day, but she's calmer by the time she's done. She makes sure to smile softly and trace her fingers over the strong line of his shoulders when they switch places in the bathroom.

She's just finishing pinning her hair up when he slides back into the room, still looking everywhere but at her. She waits until he's pulled his shirt over his head before stepping behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm feeling a bit restless. What do you say to something different tonight?"

Aaron tentatively rests his hands on hers and glances over his shoulder. "What do you have in mind?"

"Nothing too frightening, I promise." She presses her face into the clean smelling skin of his neck. "Just a little dancing."

"Dancing?" He tenses in her arms for a moment before obviously forcing himself to relax. "I don't know how to dance."

"We're not going to be waltzing, just moving." The insecurity in his voice makes her want to do something violent, but she pushes the urge aside. "And I know you can move."

He shrugs, but doesn't protest when she pulls away and tugs him towards the door. She's not sure it's her best plan ever, but she knows herself well enough to know if she stays cooped up in their rooms all night, wondering when an agent is going to burst in, she'll go crazy. 

Aaron doesn't seem especially on guard during the fifteen minute walk to the club Marta had noticed on her way to the market last week, but she knows how quickly he could snap from seeming nonchalance into violent action. She's learned to see some of the signs of caution in him, though. To see the coiling of his muscles and watch the movement of his eyes to gauge a situation. 

There's nothing in his body that speaks of danger, but he's still uneasy in a way that Marta can't put her finger on and it's making _her_ uneasy. As if he can sense it, and she admits to herself that he probably can, Aaron stops his automatic scan of their surroundings and tugs her closer by their joined hands.

"Okay?"

The genuine concern in his voice is enough to soften the knot she's had in her belly all day. "I'm fine. Just restless, like I said."

He studies her face before blinking rapidly and abruptly turning away. "Well, I can hear the music from here, so we should be dancing soon."

The club is nothing like the the few places she'd been dragged to in her undergrad days by friends. There is music and people are dancing, but those are the only similarities. This wasn't some huge warehouse space tricked out with lasers and dozens of speakers and a rack of booze as big as her first apartment. It's a small space with a makeshift bar wedged into the back corner between the uneven towers of speakers blasting some unrecognizable dance music.

The unevenly flashing strobe lights make it hard to tell exactly what the club looks like, but Marta is willing to bet the faded posters she can see curling on the far wall are the height of the decorating scheme. A raucous cheer goes up on the dance floor and she can see a small knot of girls dancing with their arms around each other. 

She glances next to her and Aaron looks a little shell shocked at the wall of noise the sketchy speakers are managing to create. His hand clamps down on hers and he drags her back a few steps until they're both pressed against the wall next to the door. Marta waits until she feels him relax next to her before moving away from the wall to stand in front of him. 

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah." He nods, still looking a bit crazy around the eyes, but quickly growing accustomed to the noise and crowd. He nods again, looking more confident. "Yeah, I'm good." 

Marta squeezes his hand and takes a step back towards the bar. "A drink first, I think."

He pushes off from the wall and follows her to the bar. He takes the small glass of suspect liquor she'd ordered for the both of them and downs it with only a slight grimace. Marta coughs her way through her own shot and grins at him when she feels the alcohol burn through her stomach. It soothes some of the itch between her shoulder blades. 

"Let's dance."

They end up on the edge of the sticky dance floor, just out of range of the bulk of the crowd, and Aaron's uncertainty has obviously returned. Marta decides to take a page from his book and forgoes reassuring him with words. Instead, she steps in close and drapes her arms around his neck. 

He startles the tiniest bit and looks her in the eye for the first time in what feels like days. "Marta?"

She scratches at the prickly hairs on the back of his head. "Just put your arms around me." 

"Gladly." The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk that has to be involuntary and his big hands settle on her waist before sliding around her back to pull her closer. 

They move awkwardly to the music for several beats before Aaron's enhanced sense of rhythm takes over and they are moving in concert. After the strangeness of the day, it's so comforting that Marta can't help clutch at him.

He slides a hand up and down her back and says in her ear, "Hey, hey, you're okay. Everything is okay."

"Is it?" She grabs a handful of his t-shirt. "You've been off all day and I keep waiting for some government ninja to appear."

"Sorry, sorry." He stops dancing and simply holds her. It's hot and close on the dance floor, but no one is paying them any attention. "I didn't know I was worrying you."

"Aaron, you tripped. Over nothing."

He steps back and grins at her in this really adorable, sheepish manner. "Sorry"

"What's _wrong_ , though? Do you feel well?" Even though she's knows it's ridiculous, it's a worry Marta keeps to herself, that viraling him off the medication isn't actually permanent.

He shakes his head emphatically. "No, no, I'm fine, I swear. Everything's fine, I just...um." He darts a quick glance at her mouth and flushes bright red all across his cheeks and ears, the bridge of his nose, and even the bit his chest she can see around the collar of his shirt. She honestly did not think he was capable of going that red.

And he can't even _look_ at her.

She moves closer again, trying to duck her head to catch his eye when she feels his erection brush against her stomach. He tries to twitch back from her, but she grabs hold of his arm just above his elbow to keep him close, her mind rapidly working towards an explanation for his behavior.

His eyes drop to her mouth again and she remembers her mumbled words from the night before.

_Oh._

Marta steps even closer, turning to hide her naughty grin in his shoulder. He makes a distressed little noise, so she kisses his neck before shushing him. "It's fine."

He breathes out a shuddering sigh against the exposed skin of her shoulder and fists his hands in the fabric of her shirt. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." She squeezes his arm and nuzzles her face into his. He relaxes more, his shoulders lowering from where they'd begun to creep up towards his ears.

The worry she's been carrying all day vanishes, leaving her giddy in its wake. It's like the aftermath of an adrenaline rush and Marta feels like being a little reckless. She bites the tendon of his neck quickly before pulling back and grabbing his hand. She'd looked around when they first came in and a second glance confirms that there appears to be a storeroom at the end of the short hallway near the bathrooms.

She drags him off the dance floor and has in him the cramped room before he can do much more than blink. She pushes his back against the door and plasters herself all along his front. She brushes her lips over his until he responds, their mouths sliding together hotly. His hands knead at her hips before sliding back to grip at her ass, pulling her tightly against him. She presses her leg between his and can feel him hard against her thigh.

He pulls away from the kiss with a gasp, looking a little frantic. "We can't do this here."

Marta raises her eyebrow and slides her hand down his chest to pull at the fastening to his pants. "Oh, I think you'll find that we can."

"Marta - " He loses his breath when the zipper gives way and she gets her hand inside his pants.

She kisses him again, biting at his mouth and the hard edge of his jaw. She bites his neck then sucks at his skin, giddy with the idea of leaving a mark on him. A quick movement and her wrist is stretching out the waistband of his underwear, her hand cupping him gently. 

Marta can feel the noise he makes where her mouth is still pressed against his neck and she licks over the small bruise she made before sliding down his body to her knees. She looks up and there's just enough light to see his wide, shocked eyes. Marta curls her fingers in the waistband of his pants and waits for the uneven nod he manages to give before tugging everything down around his ankles. 

He shifts on his feet and she pushes up the hem of his shirt to kiss his belly. She slides her hands back up his thighs and squeezes until she feels some of the tension fade away. She presses her mouth to the thin skin over his pelvis, then smiles up at him before sliding her mouth over the head of his cock without warning. 

She rides out his instinctive jerk and leans her weight into her hands on his hips to stop him from accidentally choking her. He shudders, but manages to keep his lower body pressed against the door, so Marta eases off her hands and pets her fingers across his skin as she moves her mouth on him.

It only takes a couple of minutes before he's shaking and panting. He lays a hand on her head carefully, obviously unsure if he's allowed. He doesn't get pushy or grab her hair, so Marta doesn't make a fuss. She shifts until she's got one hand on his cock and the other wrapped around the cut of his hip, her thumb digging into the little hollow there. 

She pulls back slowly until just the head of his cock is in her mouth and looks up at him through her lashes. His eyes are glazed and the edge of his hair is dark with sweat. The hand that isn't carefully petting her hair is clenched in a fist against the wall, his knuckles nearly white with pressure. She pushes her tongue against the ridge of his dick and his eyes slam closed, his face twisting up in pleasure. 

A too-loud moan disappears into the ambient noise from outside the little room. He drops his hand away from her head, his fingers scrambling for purchase against the wall behind him. He's drawn tight under her hands, visibly shaking from the effort of not moving, not hurting her. 

His chest is heaving in her peripheral vision and she can taste he's getting close. She just licks at him as if to say, 'it's okay' and that's all it takes to knock him into orgasm.

He can't completely silence his choked off noises when he comes or stop the convulsive shudder when Marta swallows around him, but he obviously tries. Once he's stopped shaking, she pulls away carefully, easing her grip on his hip and carefully tucking him back into his pants. Aaron makes another muffled noise and twitches at the stimulation before his legs give out and he slides down the wall.

"Holy shit," he gasps, stunned, and then he grins at her, sloppy and sweet. "I, uh...yeah."

She grins back and sits back on her heels, trying to ignore how wet and swollen she is. "You're welcome."

He pulls her into his lap, his movements still a bit clumsy but rapidly improving, and presses his face into her neck. His arms are tight bands around her, only loosening when he shifts her back enough to get at her mouth.

She thinks for all of two seconds about telling him that kisses immediately following blowjobs aren't always recommended, but he doesn't seem to mind at all, just kisses and kisses her until she's squirming in his lap. The small part of her mind not devoted to restraining the urge to straddle him and rub off on his thigh realizes they are sitting on the presumably filthy floor in the back room of a bar and that they should probably do something about that. 

He ends the kiss with a soft bite to her lower lip and rests his forehead against hers, a goofy little grin still twitching at the corners of his mouth. "So, question."

"Yes?" She shifts on his lap, the seam of her jeans rubbing uncomfortably between her legs.

"I can do that to you, right?" He makes a twisty little face. "I mean, not _that_ , obviously, but -- "

"Yes." Marta cuts him off before he can get any further. "Please."

"Now?"

"Yes. No." His face falls dramatically and she gestures vaguely around them. "Not here."

Aaron lights up and squeezes her tighter, kissing her one last time before lifting her up off his lap and onto her feet. He scrambles up after her, absentmindedly brushing off the seat of his pants and unwittingly drawing her attention to the curve of his ass. He's got his ear pressed to the door so she doesn't bother to hide what she's sure is a truly dirty smirk as she thinks about all the ways she'd like to touch that ass. 

Still listening, he reaches back and she takes his hand without thinking, weaving their fingers together. He smiles over his shoulder at her and cracks the door open, sidling out into the hallway and pulling her with him. 

Marta doesn't register much of the walk back to their rooms - just flashes of color and noise from the busy streets - since most of her attention is riveted to the feeling of his skin on hers. Aaron gently pushes her against the door as soon as it closes behind them. He leans into her, supporting most of his weight on his arms where they're resting next to her head. 

His body brushes hers and Marta can feel where he's hard again (still?) against her stomach. She wraps her arms around his back and opens her mouth at the first delicate touch of his tongue. The noise he makes is muffled and he shudders when she drags her nails over the thin fabric of his t-shirt. 

He drags his mouth down the edge of her jaw to her throat and mouths at the skin there. Marta bucks against the solid strength of his body and uses her grip on his t-shirt to drag it up until it catches on his arms. She nudges him back with her pelvis, ignoring the hurt little sound he makes until she can pull his shirt all the way off. 

Removing his shirt seems to flip a switch in Aaron. As soon as the fabric clears his head, he has his hands under her shirt, pulling it off and throwing it into the corner. He slides his hands around her back and pulls her close, nuzzling his face into curve of her neck for a second before spinning them around and walking her back towards the barely-made bed. 

He stops when the back of her legs are brushing the mattress and plucks at the back of her bra until he gets it unhooked. She forces herself to let go of him and let it slither down her arms to be thrown across the room to join her shirt somewhere on the floor. She unbuttons her own pants and pushes them down her hips to pool at her feet. 

Aaron's hands quickly follow, peeling her panties off and carefully shoving her back onto the bed. She scrambles back on her elbows until she's resting against the pillows and kicks at the sheets until they’re tangled at the foot of the bed. He shucks his pants but leaves his boxer briefs on and crawls up the bed until he has her caged in by his arms and legs. He leans down and kisses her, slicking his tongue into her mouth for a breathless moment before dragging his lips down her throat. 

He kisses a careful path over her collar bones before detouring down to follow the curve of her breast. He doesn't seem to be following any sort of logical progression as he kisses and licks his way down her body, but he somehow manages to wind her up even further. Aaron ends up sprawled on his belly, his slightly bristly cheek resting on her thigh.

Marta can feel the rush of his breath over her wet skin and she shivers convulsively, squeezing at his shoulders with her legs. That small, involuntary movement seems to be all the go-ahead he needs to shift forward and tentatively put his mouth on her. Marta relaxes back into the pillows, content to let him explore her at his own pace despite her arousal. 

Touching her the night before had given him a road map, though, and he quickly finds a rhythm with his mouth that has her gasping and squirming on the bed. Aaron shifts, wrapping one arm around her hip to hold her steady and slowly slides two fingers from his free hand inside her. Marta doesn't bother to muffle the noise she makes when he starts to move them in tandem with his mouth. 

Her noises spur him on, driving her higher and higher until she can hardly breathe. It only takes one final press of his tongue over her clit to send her spiraling, shuddering on the thin sheets and clenching around his fingers. He gentles his touch, but doesn't leave off until she kicks him in the ribs and manages to gasp out, "Too much." 

Aaron reluctantly lifts his mouth away and inches up to rest his head on her trembling stomach. Marta pulls herself together enough to run her fingers through his hair and hold him close. She isn't sure how long they stay like that before Aaron turns his head to kiss just above her belly button. He crawls up the rest of the way until he's hovering over her, looking only slightly unsure. Marta wraps her hand around the back of his neck and yanks him down into kissing range. 

She doesn't mind the taste of herself in his mouth and relishes the feeling of his body against hers. He's starting to get hard again, his hips shifting restlessly against hers. She squeezes his hips with her knees and unwinds one arm from around him to reach into the gap between the bed and the wall. It takes a second of scrambling to find the box of condoms she'd stashed there and she pauses for a moment before pulling them out, but decides to go ahead when Aaron pulls away.

"What are you doing?"

Marta supposes she looks rather odd with one arm bent awkwardly and shoved behind the bed and she's sure her expression is rather sheepish when she pulls the box out, but she shrugs. "No pressure, but just in case."

Aaron's eyes flit back and forth between her face and the condoms several times. "Where'd those come from?"

"That's what you're going to ask?" She huffs and lets her arm fall back to the bed. "I picked them up when we passed through Auckland on the way here."

He nods, looking distracted and glances at the condoms again. "Wait. Auckland was weeks ago."

Marta feels her face flush darker than could be accounted for by her fading orgasm, but she tips her chin up and meets his eyes. There really is nothing for her to be ashamed of. After a moment, Aaron grins at her and swoops down for another kiss. "You're so smart."

She laughs against his mouth and curls her leg around his, arching up to press against him. His eyes slam closed at her movement and he tips his head forward to bury his head in the curve of her neck. His mouth opens against her throat and he gently sucks at the small patch of skin. He's fully hard already and Marta starts rocking her hips, just a bit, to spur him on. 

Aaron shudders hard then rears back, sitting on his heels between her legs. He looks a little wild around the eyes, but she just smiles and stretches her arms over her head, arching her back. The noise he makes is almost as satisfying as the way he feels against her. 

Almost. 

She waggles the condom box to catch his attention and can only blink at the speed he snatches it out of her hand. It's the work of a moment for him to claw the box open, pull out a strip of condoms, and get one rolled on. He leans forward, propping his hands on the bed next to her shoulders and holding himself away from her. "You're sure?"

"I am." Marta runs her fingers down his chest and over his sides, firming her touch enough so she doesn't tickle him. She grabs on to the long muscles next to his spine and squeezes, urging him down. 

He settles back on top of her, sliding his hands up the bed until they're pressed together as much as possible. Marta tips her chin up to catch his mouth with hers, kissing him as dirty as she knows how until his hips are jerking in hot little pulses against her. Aaron tears his mouth away from hers, panting against her ear for a second before he lifts up a few inches and reaches down between them. 

His hand brushes her clit as he gets his dick in his hand and starts to line up to press inside her. Marta tips her hips to make it easier and snakes one hand down to help him. She has to close her eyes as the flex of his hips pushes his cock into her in one smooth motion. When he bottoms out inside her, Aaron makes a noise like he's been shot and drops his head down to her shoulder. 

Marta holds him close for a moment, running her fingers down the line of his spine until she gets to the swell of his ass. She pauses there for a moment, stroking his skin before reaching down and digging her fingers into the taut muscle. Aaron's hips hitch forward, grinding against hers and his head jerks up at the increased sensation.

His eyes are wide and a little wild, but he grins down at her and gives a tentative thrust that makes both of them sigh. That seems to be all the encouragement he needs to shift his hips back and slide back into her in an even rhythm. He's just big enough that the stretch feels good and not uncomfortable and Marta lets herself move with him. 

The arousal that remained after he'd gone down on her comes back in a rush when she manages to tip her hips just right. There must be something in her expression because Aaron pauses for a second, then duplicates his last moment. Marta's stomach jumps at both the feeling and the look in Aaron's eyes when he sees her reaction. 

From there her world becomes nothing more than a wash of sensation. Aaron's cock is moving inside of her, strong and increasingly sure with every stroke. His body is hot, his skin damp with sweat and sliding against hers. She can feel his breath on her neck, ruffling the fine hairs there and chasing a chill down her spine. Marta manages to pull one hand away from its grip on his back and shoves it between them to press on her clit.

She turns her head to muffle her groan in his hair and comes again, her entire body clenching around him and her heel digging into the back of his leg. She sets her teeth in his shoulder and shakes through what feels like an endless orgasm. She collapses back on the bed, her hands moving idly on Aaron's back as his thrusts get ragged and he makes a choked off noise.

He trembles in her arms for a long moment before collapsing down onto her in a boneless heap. He's breathing in uneven bursts, intermittent tremors ghosting under his skin and she soothes him the best she can while her own pulse is still racing. Aaron presses his mouth to the edge of her jaw and just breathes for a second before she feels him gather his strength to move back away from her. She reaches down to hold the condom in place as he carefully pulls out of her and sits back on his knees to shuffle back off the bed. 

Marta can hear him cleaning up in the tiny attached bathroom as she stretches, enjoying the pull of well-used muscles all over her body. She's curled up on her side when he comes back into the room and makes a quick circuit to ensure the windows and door are secured. He slides into the bed next to her and scoots forward until they're touching at forehead and knees. 

"Hey."

"Hey." She grins at the giddy tone of his voice and brushes her nose against his. "You're good?"

Aaron nods and reaches between them to tangle their fingers together. "So I was thinking we could stay."

"Here?"

"Well, not here," he tips his head to encompass their small rooms, "but here in town."

Marta has been thinking about the same thing. They've managed to make friends and carve out an existence doing odd jobs. "Yeah?"

"Marcus said he's got a little house out on the edge of town we could move into next month."

She lets the reality of that soak in - a house, a _life_ \- with Aaron. It isn't the future she saw for herself five years ago or even five months ago, but now it sounds like heaven. She tips her head to kiss him quickly before settling back with a giddy smile. "I can't wait."

Aaron ducks his head for a second before turning onto his other side and wiggling back until he's tucked into the curve of her body. Marta wraps her arm around his chest and tugs him closer, dropping a kiss on the back of his neck before giving in to the exhaustion tugging at her. 

This isn't necessarily the life she would have chosen for herself, but it's her life now and it's good.


End file.
